


Birthday

by ProbablyBeatrice



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables (Dallas 2014), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy Ending, M/M, One Shot, Tumblr, most of les amis are just mentioned, okay the ships are mainly implied, so you can choose one or both or not at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 15:58:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16021223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProbablyBeatrice/pseuds/ProbablyBeatrice
Summary: As a child, his birthday had always been the favourite annual celebration in Marius’ life.It's improbable, though, that Les Amis have remembered it. Marius decides to make his birthday memorable on his own.





	Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to @decayingliberty on Tumblr for their amazing post about this very thing.  
> https://decayingliberty.tumblr.com/post/164989155401/marius-thinks-of-les-amis-as-his-friends-but-not  
> The title sucks, so if anyone has any better suggestions...

   As a child, his birthday had always been the favourite annual celebration in Marius’ life.

   There was a sort of innocent wonder to those first few parties when he looked back, a blur of smiling faces and pass-the-parcel (wrapped in paper from the most exclusive shop possible - Monsieur Gillenormand wouldn’t be caught dead using the cheap, Auchan brand like everyone else). The most vivid memories were of the cake, though, each year cut into different, elaborate shapes. A turtle, perhaps, or a huge chocolate castle cake with his very own statuette of himself on the keep.

   As he grew up and began to rebel, however, the parties had gotten noticeably smaller and with fewer of Marius’ close friends. Fifty people fell to twenty, then ten, then five, the none at all. He had raged against it; what a silly thing to do, he now thought, but it wasn’t just about the party itself. He had locked himself in his room and declared, in a fit of passion, that he wouldn’t come out until his grandfather stopped trying to control his life. This had lasted for all of two days, after which Marius had began packing to leave the place that he had called his home forever.

   That had been a year ago now. Though he loved the life that he now led – sharing an apartment with Courfeyrac, living quite close to the daily cycling route of a rather pretty girl he ran into once, attend the meetings of Les Amis de l’ABC – he sometimes couldn’t help but feel a little sad. He loved the people he knew now, and would call him his friends until his dying breath, but sometimes he felt a little left out.

   It was no surprise to him when they forgot his birthday. Well, to be fair, he hadn’t ever told them.

   There was a meeting on the very day, preparing for something or another; a protest, he realised, berating himself. ‘There are more important things in life than your birthday, Marius.’ He could almost hear Enjolras saying that now, sure that he would get that response if he told anyone there. So, when Courfeyrac had suggested that he leave slightly early, he thought nothing of it. “You look like Hell, Marius,” he had informed him. “Go home and sleep.” There was to be another meeting tomorrow – perhaps that would be the actual protest, or whatever it was. Strange, though. He hadn’t heard a thing about this before.

   It began to rain as he made his way back to his apartment. Marius quickly darted inside a bakery, surprised to see the girl who he had been admiring (“Stalking,” Courfeyrac had constantly reminded him). He gave her a small smile, which she returned, and ordered a simple cupcake. This would be the first birthday that his grandfather hadn’t bought him some huge, fancy affair, and he only had just enough money to pay for it. The girl smiled kindly – ‘Cosette’, read her name-badge. “Thanks, Cosette,” Marius said gratefully as he took the cupcake, now neatly packaged in a little red box with a ribbon tied around it. He gave a small wave and then left, back into the rain.

   Very few people were outside now, the majority of them having quickly rushed to the first place that they could find shelter. He couldn’t blame them, of course. It really was a huge storm, and he realised for the first time that perhaps he ought to pay more attention to the weather reports when they flashed up on his phone. The trek back to the apartment that he shared with Courfeyrac was long and tiresome, but there was plenty to look at along the way that made him feel slightly closer to his friends. A plant that Jehan loved, water diligently by Monsieur Mabuef, the kind old man who lived by the church and sometimes gave Marius books to borrow. A tattered red banner hanging out of a window, thrown there by Enjolras during a particularly violent protest and never taken down. Remnants of bright yellow glitter from a few weeks ago, when Courfeyrac had ambushed Combeferre with Nerf guns painted in neon colours and filled with miscellaneous sparkles. The cobblestone still stained slightly with rusty blood where Bahorel had finally picked a fight that he couldn’t win.

   He unlocked the front door and entered the apartment, sticking a small yellow candle into the cupcake. It was no doubt left over from one of Courfeyrac’s many misguided backing endeavours, and Marius summarised that he wouldn’t be in trouble for using it. He gave a soft smile as he lit it, singing himself ‘Happy Birthday’ as the clock on the wall ticked its way resolutely to eleven o’clock. It didn’t take long for him to finish the small cupcake, after which he got out the latest book that Monsieur Mabuef had given to him. As he turned the first page, he realised very suddenly that, technically speaking, this was the only birthday present that he was going to get.

   The rain continued pouring as Marius eagerly read the novel, eventually drifting off to the tapping of the rain on the glass and the soothing click of the clock’s hands. An hour or so later, at one o’clock, a soaked Courfeyrac entered the apartment, peeling off his coat and hanging it up. The preparations for Marius’ birthday party had gone well so far, and it had seemed that he hadn’t suspected a thing when ushered out.

   Then, he noticed the empty cake wrapper and the small candle, burnt out now, the book lying next to the sleeping Marius, who was mumbling ‘happy birthday’ in his sleep.

   Marius had thought they had didn’t know about his birthday and hadn’t wanted to bother them with it, Courfeyrac realised. In typical Marius fashion, he had gone out like an awkward puppy and decided not to ‘annoy’ anyone with something important to him, instead choosing to try to make his birthday a good one on his own.

   Courfeyrac didn’t know whether to laugh or cry as he slipped a note under Marius’ hand.

   “Meet at the Musain tomorrow, 9:30.

   p.s. there’s cake :)”

**Author's Note:**

> Quick confession: I used to hate Marius.  
> I had only listened to the musical and thought that he was the most boring sod to ever exist.  
> I'm so glad that I took the time to read the Brick, though, as it made me fall for this precious noodle. Sure, he may not be as exciting or revolutionary as the core members of Les Amis, or as tragic as Eponine or as anything as any of your other faves, but there's a certain determination to him that I greatly admire.


End file.
